


What Comes After

by Coalmine301



Series: Comfortember 2020 [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker are Siblings, RotS AU, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coalmine301/pseuds/Coalmine301
Summary: The war is over, they've won. They can finally be a family.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: Comfortember 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996339
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	What Comes After

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Comfortember Prompt "Make Something Beautiful"

Finally, after seemingly endless years fighting, the Clone Wars were over. 

Anakin could hardly believe it. It was surreal hearing about the Seperatist surrender. It was surreal seeing a new Chancellor take Palpatine’s place, the latter having been revealed as the elusive sith lord. It was surreal feeling the Force lighten. 

As much as he hated to admit it, the blonde couldn’t help but feel like this was all a dream. That he would open his eyes and find himself laying in a field tent, preparing for the next battle.

But no, it was well and truly over. And the now, finally, Republic could truly heal. 

A familiar Force present approached, Anakin glancing up just as Obi-wan stepped onto the balcony beside him. The redhead smiled, azure eyes truly alive for perhaps the first time since the war ended.

“I figured I might find you out here,” he mused, coming to stand by his brother’s side.

At that Anakin gave a hearty shrug. “What can I say? I love the view.”

Together the two glanced down into the Naboo garden below. There Padme sat on an elegant bench, children -a boy and a girl- nestled on either side. 

Braids dangled over their right shoulders. 

Anakin chuckled a little to himself. It was a compromise with the Council, in exchange for letting them be trained Anakin and Padme could pick their Masters. And he would certainly be a fool for not nominating his siblings in all but blood for the positions. 

Officially Obi-wan mentored Leia and Ahsoka Luke. But if they just so happened to train each other’s padawan as much as their own -the twins were a unit, after all- then the Council didn’t have to know. 

The trio looked happy, cheerfully conversing with one another. Every once in awhile, laughter would drift up towards the balcony.

“They’re growing fast,” Obi-wan mused.

Anakin gave him a playful nudge. “You must be getting old, Master,” he teased. “It’s not like you to be sentimental.”

The redhead gave a huff of a laugh. “Perhaps I am.” 

Glancing over, Anakin could easily see silver at his temples and scattered throughout the beard. Anakin was ashamed to admit a good portion of that silver had been caused by him. Not to mention the new stress lines across his face.

The war had been hard on them all. Obi-wan especially, going grey several years early. Thank the Force it was all over now.

Anakin wrapped a muscular arm around his brother’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side. The older man didn’t resist, didn’t even protest, just melted into the welcome half embrace.

And for a moment everything was perfect. The Council’s disapproval, suspicious senators, even the occasional assassin- none of that could touch them. For they had a family, and they would always have each other.

It all changed in an instant.

It took Anakin a moment to realize there was something wrong. The colors were too bright, the laughter too loud. The sun shone too brilliantly, almost sarcastically. Unnaturally so. 

For a split second paradise vanished, an image flashing across Anakin’s mind.

-Someone handing him a familiar bloodied lightsaber, an apology uttered too soft to catch-

Yet when he blinked it was gone. The guardian returned, exactly as it had been. Obi-wan stood at his side, Padme and the twins smiling at each other in the garden below. No sign of anything being amis. 

Obi-wan’s brows pinched together in concern, turning to face the taller man. “Are you alright?” He asked. “You looked like you saw-”

“It’s nothing,” Anakin replied quickly. Perhaps too quickly. 

But Obi-wan merely shrugged, not bothering to push further.

For a moment comfortable silence passed between them again. For a moment they could truly pretend everything truly was fine.

And then Obi-wan coughed.

-blue eyes far too wide, blood spilling over bearded lips- 

Anakin blinked hard, shaking his head hard. The garden seemed a lot less beautiful than it had a moment ago. Storm clouds rolled over formerly clear skies. The vibrant foliage looked duller now, less full of life.

Padme and the twins were no longer laughing. Sobs replaced the joyous noise.

Anakin glanced over at his brother and immediately wished he hadn't. Obi-wan was deathly pale, a trail of crimson sliding down from the corner of his mouth. The cream of his tunic was rapidly eaten up by lifeblood from far too many wounds to count. All of them fatal.

-Leia screamed, tears streaming down her face as she cradled her mentor and uncle’s corpse-

Worst of all were the eyes. Azure orbs stared unblinkingly ahead, looking at something only the dead could see.

A hand moved to rest on Anakin’s shoulder and he flinched under the weight. It wasn’t physically heavy, not at all, instead heavy with a less tangible reason.

“You have to let me go,” Obi-wan stared directly into his eyes. Crimson spilled from parted lips to stain the marble below. “The accident wasn’t your fault.”

Anakin awoke with a jerk, cheeks wet with tears. 

There was a slight rustle of sheets as the bed’s other occupant turned to face him. “Ani?” His angel asked, concern clear in her voice.

For a moment Anakin’s throat closed up and he couldn’t speak. “He’s gone… isn’t he?”

The ‘he’ didn’t need to be specified. Slender fingers brushed his cheek, the blonde raising a hand to cup them against his face. As if the comfort could drown away the pain. 

“He is,” Padme murmured mournfully. “I’m sorry.”


End file.
